Today's Reading
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
I'm not sure when I first noticed the house. I did give the vendesi ("for sale") sign a second glance every now and then when we went to Passignano for an aperitivo by the lakeshore of Trasimeno, the fourth-biggest lake in Italy. The sign was A4 size when we first arrived, and now, two years later, it had increased to a meter-long tarp, covering the front gate. The house stands hiding behind two big magnolia trees, its shuttered eyes closed, grass growing up around its ears.
Every time I pass, I am sure I can hear it sigh. I sigh with it. It isn't a sad house; it's just patiently waiting for the right owner to come along and feeling a little exasperated about being locked up all the time.
The inscription above the door reads "1923"—a grand villa built during the Roaring Twenties, elegant but homely, but not the one for me.
My ideal house in Italy has always been on the typical cypress-lined road, peaceful and quiet, birds singing, vineyards for miles around. So the Sighing House is not an option; it's too near the road, it has neighbors, and there is a railway track between the end of the garden and the lake.
The house we currently rent is closer to the description of my dream vision—in peace and quiet, on a private road, with birds singing. It is nice, but when you work for yourself and don't get out much, it gets pretty boring. Also, when I'm getting as excited as our dog seeing her lead at the mention of going somewhere, it's a good indication that the quiet country life may not be for me at this stage.
It was even more revealing when we sat down as a family and separately wrote down our "Must Have" lists for our "ideal home" if we ever were in a position to buy a house in Italy.
My "Must Haves":
Near a train station so I don't ever have to drive on the Italian motorways to get to Florence or Rome.
Near water, because I feel better near water. Maybe it keeps my chakras balanced? I don't really know what that means, but my inner hippy is screaming to get out, so I think being near water will help that.
Near a town so I can go for an Aperol spritz without having to drive home.
Not in the middle of nowhere so I can meet other humans rather than talking to myself all day.
My Husband Ronan's "Must Haves":
Near a train station so he won't have to drive me to Florence or Rome, as he knows I'll never have the courage to do it myself.
Near a town so he won't have to drive me home after an Aperol spritz.
Near water so he can walk our dogs.
Not in the middle of nowhere so he can get away from the house and go for a quiet cup of coffee and a read without me constantly giving him a list of tasks to do as soon as I see him sit down and relax.
Our Teenage Son Luca's "Must Haves":
Near a train station so he can escape from us.
Near a town so he can hang out with people his own age and escape from us.
Not in the middle of nowhere, as it makes it difficult for him to escape from us.
Near water, as it's a good place to hang out with friends and escape from us.
So if we are ever in a position to buy a home to call our own again after our last four disasters, the decision is made that the house will need to be near a train station, within walking distance of a town, near water, and have a garden for our pets.
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